


The Taste of Gravel in the Mouth

by of_dreamdust



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Vessels, Castiel in Alternate Vessels, Fallen Angels, Gen, Vessels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 03:20:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1453570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/of_dreamdust/pseuds/of_dreamdust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the quiet moments when the sun is setting, she still feels the grace of a familiar angel rushing through her body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Taste of Gravel in the Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> A pause, a road, the taste of gravel in the mouth. The rocks dig into my skin  
> like arrowheads.  
> And then the sense of being smothered underneath a sack of lentils  
> or potatoes, or of a boat at night slamming into the dock again  
> without navigation, without consideration,  
> heedless of the planks of wood that are dock,  
> that make up the berth itself.
> 
> \- Richard Siken, The Torn-Up Road

She is sitting on the hood of her car and watching the sun.

It’s a beat up old car, black and not very big, but she grew to be quite fond of it. It has been her home for so long that now she can’t imagine being without it.

She is deeply convinced that it’s a destiny of all the people who have that feeling of wanderlust rushing through their veins. She thinks they’re on the road for so long that it becomes the part of them. At least she feels that way.

But that feeling has been different when it comes to her. It always was. Somehow stronger and more alive, like it has the mind of its own, like it’s something inside her that not only makes her blood flow, but makes the blood itself.

She is sitting on the hood of her car and peeling the orange, the juice of it dripping down her hands. The soft smell of wind is ruffling her blond hair, and the sky is red.

She remembers the cause of her traveling. Well, she at least remembers what she told her mother.

_I’m going to find him_ , she said. _I have to find him_.

Now she wonders was she really honest about that. She wonders if she left for more selfish reasons.

Because still, when the weather changes, it seems like she can feel it. On a dark stormy night, when the rain is pouring, sticking the clothes to her skin, she still feels more. In the quiet moments when the sun is setting, she still feels the grace of a familiar angel rushing through her body.

She still feels the stars trapped in her throat; she still feels it in the wind in her hair, in the sun spilling over her skin.

She doubts she’ll ever feel complete again.

She’s not even sure what she’s doing, what she’s going to do even if she finds him. She’s not even sure if she’s really chasing her father or an angel who’s riding him.              

She knows her father is lost, had been lost for years now; _she’s just being selfish_.

She just wants to feel complete again, to feel bigger for just one more time.

Maybe someone or something will have mercy.

Because the only thing she’s certain about is the gun in her pocket and the itching feeling in her guts and she knows that she can’t stop.

Not now.

She puts her knife back in her left boot and wipes hands of her jeans.

She can’t stop, not now when she feels more alive than ever, when she feels new amount of hope swelling in her chest.

Because, last night, she watched the meteors on the clear dark sky.

Last night, she watched the angels falling.

**Author's Note:**

> So ummm... this is my first work I put here so... don't be so harsh, please. :$


End file.
